


What the Fork?!

by andiebeaword



Series: Spencer Reid Teen+ One Shots [10]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Spencer Reid - Fandom
Genre: Mentions of Alcohol., Mentions of Sex, Other, cursing, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26776993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andiebeaword/pseuds/andiebeaword
Summary: Spencer has never heard Reader curse. It's always been one of the things he likes about them. Until one day, Spencer witnesses them spilling their coffee all over themselves, prompting them to yell a string of curses. Spencer chuckles, loudly, at this. Even snorts. Reader catches him, Spencer being quick to apologize.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader
Series: Spencer Reid Teen+ One Shots [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2115525
Kudos: 44





	What the Fork?!

**Author's Note:**

> This will be my first GeN!Reader fic. This prompt is so fluffy I could die from it, I swear. Also, I love the Good Place and their 'wholesome' language is greatly used in this fic. In case no one caught on, Reader is a fan.

\-------♥-------- 

Cursing was always something I grew up understanding as something one should never do. Sure, I knew of the 'f' word, the 'c' word, hell, even the 'b' word; but, my parents, Dad especially, always raised me to believe that out of all the words in the English language, expletives aren't always the smartest to choose from. 

So, I opted not to. In high school, my date to the homecoming dance spouted off more curse words during the car ride from my house to the school than I had heard in my entire life. Needless to say that was one relationship I wasn't broken-hearted about. 

College came and I was granted financial permission to live in the dorms. Away from the eavesdropping ears of my parentals..and my little sister. Saying words like fuck..or shit still felt so weird on my tongue. Like, maybe I really wasn't meant to be one of the many who speak in expletives the same way some speak in different languages. 

Before graduating, I had joined the science fiction club. Didn't really do a whole lot, aside from observe random Dungeons & Dragons battles, and occasionally painting detailed figurines for those who played Warhammer 300. I did, however, get into comic books and graphic novels. One of which was called The Good Place. It showcased a rather odd version of Heaven, in my opinion, but, essentially what I came to love about it was the language in which curse words were replaced with close-sounding, normal everyday words, while also being dramatized much like the average expletive. I loved it. 

I tried to use my newly discovered language in casual conversation one evening with my folks at their house during the holidays. One could say that it didn't exactly end well in my favor. I had been going for a Creative Writing degree, hoping to one day teach teenage kids a little more than basic literature. My dad never saw the potential the same way I did. Unlike him, I had no desires to join the military and 'serve my country' for twenty consecutive years. What I did want to do, was help people. I thought it over one night while staying up late trying to cram in the last bit of studying necessary before my brains turned to jello. I couldn't sleep nor could I continue drilling useless information into my skull, so I wandered. 

It was when I came across a flyer someone had posted on the student board. 

Come Meet David Rossi, author of Deviance: The Secret Desires of Sadistic Serial Killers. Get to know what it takes to become a profiler with the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit. 

I stared at it for longer than needed, finally huffing and tearing off a tab at the bottom with the information on it. Three days later, I am sitting in one of the auditoriums listening to SSA David Rossi speak. By the end, I decided to apply for the academy. The day I got accepted, I debated whether it was even worth it to tell my parents. Choosing to inform them via snail mail, I packed my bags and transferred out to Virginia. 

-

Now, here I am, five years later, an actual profiler for the Behavioral Analysis Unit. I still remember being shocked that SSA David Rossi recognized me. This was my second year being apart of the team, starting out as a temporary agent when they lost one of their own. I still feel I'm replacing SSA Emily Prentiss, who I've come to know and admire even though she kind of died for a year. Emily never missed an opportunity to inform me that I was never offered a position simply to fill in the shoes of someone else. I will always love her for that. 

One member of the team, however, dared to catch my eye on my first day. I was running late, per usual, but on that morning, I had a rather large to-go cup in my hand. Without paying attention, I swung the glass doors open and immediately bumped into one SSA Dr. Spencer Reid. Thankfully, the coffee that was once in my hand only spilled on the floor in between us and not on his well-fitted lilac button-down. "So-sorry, I--I didn't pay attention to where I was going." I paused to look up, meeting two very pretty hazel-colored eyes. 

"No, I--It's my fault. Tardiness is an unfortunate habit I inherited from my dad." I gave the man before me a small, shy smile, before attempting to casually spot-clean the coffee spill, using napkins already in hand from the shop down the street. Right as I swore I heard him clear his throat, Morgan and J.J. had walked in, giving Reid an out--which he took. 

Since then, we've only ever talked here and there on cases, stealing glance on rare occasions, but mostly just choosing to remain professional colleagues, practically throwing the term 'friends' out the window. Which was weird. I became close with Emily almost immediately. Then, after a night out with the team, I was welcomed moreso by Morgan, Garcia, and J.J. Rossi and Hotch acknowledged my moments of clarity on cases, but never socially engaged in conversation with me much outside the doors of the BAU. 

Which was fine by me. I applauded the level of professionalism when it came to my bosses. I did not, however, truly appreciate it when it came to the doctor. We were both close in age, but, other than that and having this job, we might as well have been on two different planets. Today, though, today was one of those days, much like my first here. I was running ceremoniously late as normal, opting to skip the glorious coffee run for the pot of charcoal I knew was waiting for me inside the break room. As I approached the machine, I poured the grounds in, pressing the necessary buttons without really cognitively thinking much. 

In my superb state of ignorance, I failed to notice that Reid had already poured himself a cup, standing near the doors, browsing over one of his many classic novels he seems to keep in his messenger bag. On this day, I opted to wear one of my favorite button-downs, but forgot to throw on a tank top beforehand. As clumsy me shakingly poured out the delicious mixture into a standard beige cup, I flinched, causing the liquid to splash all over my shirt, dripping down my front, hitting the waistline of my pants with ease. And let me tell you, the feeling it gave me the second I felt the hot substance hit my skin, caused me to shrill out the first words to come to mind. 

"What the Fork?!" I slapped my hand over my mouth as my brain computed the words my mouth said back to my brain. Quickly, I set the coffee pot down, moving my fingers straight for the buttons of my shirt, frantically trying to peel it off my soaked skin, already irritated by the fact that I could feel the stickiness of it all as the stains began to set in the fabric. Before I made it to the last button, a snort echoed through the room, and I instantly knew who it belonged to. In horror, I slowly turned around to see Reid, clearly unphased by my awkwardness, cracking up a storm with his insatious laughter. "Find my predicament hilarious, do you, Dr. Reid?" Briefly, I forgot that my shirt was left opened, leaving little to the imagination of my chest. But, before I could feel the embarrassment creep in, Spencer spoke up. 

"It's not that, Y/L/N. I just...I don't believe I've ever heard you...um, curse..before." I was flabbergasted. Great. Just give me one more reason to crush harder on you, Doctor, please. A typical grown man would waste his breath pointing out that I'm practically flashing him, but not Spencer. No, Mr. 187 zeroes in on the fact that I blurted out very colorful language that was actually out-of-character for me, so, his reaction made an absurd amount of sense. 

"Well, that was forking hot as shirt!" It felt surprisingly great to let out this part of me. I just would have never believed that the moment I did, Spencer Reid, of all people, would be the one who would bare witness. Also, unashamed to silently admit that I actually didn't mind his gaze when his eyes did trail up my front. "Well, if you're done ogling me, I'd appreciate it if you kept this uhh, moment between us, okay?" With that, I made a beeline for my desk, undoing the last button with newfound ease, switching out my shirts, thankfully, before anyone else could walk in. Out of the corner of my eye, I gathered that Spencer saw the show just fine. I wanted to tease him more about it, but then J.J. came in to let us know we got a case. 

\- 

A month went by, and for some stupid reason, I couldn't get the replay of Spencer laughing at my use of expletives out of my head. One night, while out at a small bar with the team, I let another one slip out after two too many shots taken with Garcia. "My gawd! This song is benching!!" A slew of odd looks slowly made their way towards my spot in the booth. 

"Benching?" Emily asked, quirking an eyebrow up at me. She knew of my graphic novel collection, though my growing crush on the handsome doctor...that one I wasn't sure she grasped. Before I could shoot her a look, Morgan and Reid came over to take their respective seats. 

"What's so funny?" Morgan asked, cocking his head in my direction as I felt a blush creep up to the dimples of my cheeks. 

"Nothing," J.J. chimed in. "Just giving Y/N here shit about the way they say curse words." I mentioned before how Emily is my favorite, right? I love J.J., but the girl's lips run loose with little to no liquor. 

"I like it." 

Now, all seven of us rolled our eyes towards the genius, watching him intently as he sips his drink nonchalantly like he didn't just compliment me in front of the entire team. "What?" Spencer looked especially cute in that moment as he pouted, seemingly unsure as to why we were all suddenly interested in why he made it clear he likes the way I choose to curse. As the rest of the team shook their heads at us, all but Hotch and Rossi made their way to the dance floor, while the two older gentlemen bid their goodbyes, claiming their youthful days were behind them than in front of them. Just as they were leaving the bar, Rossi turned back to say something to Spencer, though I couldn't quite make it out. I did, however, hear with utmost clarity what Spencer has said in return. 

"Son of a....bitch." It was one thing to know that he liked my way of saying those words, it was another to hear him say one as if he spoke it everyday. Even though I was completely aware he knew I had heard him, I played it off as if I hadn't, much to his amusement. 

"Come again, Doctor?" The words were out of my mouth before realization hit me as I heard Spencer now coughing up a fit in front of me. 

"Hey, man, you alright?" Somebody behind us asked, bumping into my side with enough force to cause me to knock over the rest of Spencer's beer all over the table. 

"Forking ash-hole! Watch where you're walking!" The anger that had grown within seconds inside me dissipated at the sound of Spencer's laugh filling my hears like a harmonious symphony. Somewhere in the middle, he snorted, slapping a hand to his mouth much like I had done over a month ago. 

"Just what do you find funny now, you son of a bench." I made sure to draw out my sarcasm voice, clearly telling Spencer to read in-between the lines and take the hint I was giving him. Spencer calmed himself down, his hand reaching for the glass of water that had been next to his beer. He slurped down a few swigs before glancing over at me, a quisitive look across his face. 

"Nothing, I---nothing." He shook his head, peering over at me like he knew I was going to shoot him a look back, letting him know I was on to him. Sighing, he ran his fingers through his luscious locks, albeit much shorter now since he recently got a haircut. "It's just, um, at first...I kind of assumed that you only..well, you would only think to um, well, uummm...curse...in bed?" I could only stare at him while slowly blinking every five seconds. The butterflies inside me fluttered ever-so slightly. Truth be told, just knowing that Dr. Spencer Reid found my way of saying some choice words..intriguing, well, it gave me some valid understanding that maybe....the two of us could be friends. 

I raised my glass to his, catching the looks of our colleagues as we continued to laugh and boast about the night and the craziness behind my choices of expletives.

"Well, Dr. Reid, do keep talking. I bet you'll get corkblocked." 

\-------♥--------


End file.
